


To the Victor

by within_a_dream



Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: A bet is won, and a move is made
Relationships: Benjamin January/Hannibal Sefton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	To the Victor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



Neither of them had been entirely serious about the bet. It had been a natural escalation of the conversation, Ben had told himself, when he lamented that he was entirely out of money with which to wager and Hannibal had offered up himself. Or rather, his mouth.

"Forgive my immodesty, but I’ve been told I’m quite good with my mouth." Hannibal gave Ben a sly look, eyes drifting down to his trousers briefly. "Should Gaubert make it through the party without coming to blows with Leclerc, it will be entirely at your disposal."

Ben masked the way that made his heart race with a grin. "I’m not sure I have anything of equal value to offer. My lips would surely disappoint."

"Wager your hands." Hannibal grinned back, picking his violin up for the next song. "I’m sure you’re proficient with them."

"I accept your terms." Ben struck the first chord, watching the dancers return to the floor. Leclerc had just asked the young lady who Gaubert had his eyes on to a dance – he might lose this bet.

By the end of the night, both men had stormed out of the hall, at separate times, leaving the lady alone to be swept away by a third man (who was a far better choice, in Ben’s opinion). The ball drew to a close, they returned to Ben’s rooms for their traditional after-performance drink (although Hannibal was more than a bit drunk already), and Ben was half convinced Hannibal had forgotten their bet. Then Hannibal drained his glass, setting it on the edge of Ben’s bookshelf, and said, "It seems you’ve bested me once again."

"They might have struck up a fight once they were outside," Ben said.

"No need to soften the blow." Hannibal spread his arms wide. "You the victor, I your spoils - I am entirely at your disposal."

There had often been an edge of flirtation to their conversations, one that Ben had ignored first out of grief and then out of self-preservation. Neither a man nor a white person would have been worth the risk to his already-precarious position since his return to New Orleans, much less a combination of the two, no matter how friendly he and Hannibal had grown. But the late hour and the wine had left this conversation in this room feeling isolated from the outside world, floating in a charmed bubble.

He took Hannibal’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Hannibal’s lips tasted of wine, sticky-sweet. For a moment he stood stock-still, and Ben worried with a sickening drop in his stomach that he had badly misread the situation. Then he began to kiss back, lips moving against Ben’s and hand grabbing at Ben’s shirt. He hadn’t been exaggerating about his skill with his mouth, some detached part of Ben noted. After a moment to acclimate to how Ben moved, Hannibal was mirroring him perfectly, mouths locked together like they were made for each other and hands roaming over every inch of Ben that they could reach, lingering in all the spots that drew even the slightest of stifled reactions. When he pulled back, Ben found himself trailing after, not wanting to let go.

Hannibal pressed another light kiss to Ben’s lips, fingers toying with the waistband of Ben’s trousers. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, and then he seemed to think better of it. Ben found himself in the same position, wanting to say something to [draw the two of them back together] but afraid that breaking the silence would shatter [what they’d found].

Then Hannibal dropped to his knees.

Ben found himself entirely speechless at that. He wanted to protest, but the sight of Hannibal looking up at him through his lashes had stolen his breath completely. In the past, if pressed, Ben would have admitted that Hannibal was handsome in a delicate sort of way, but he would never have called him beautiful. Here in Ben’s bedroom, cheeks colored and lips red and swollen with kisses, Hannibal’s face was the most beautiful Ben had seen since Paris.

Eventually he managed a strangled, "What are you…" to which Hannibal replied (sounding entirely too composed), "I _did_ promise you full use of my mouth. I would be remiss if I neglected this aspect of it."

Ben traced a thumb over Hannibal’s cheekbone, and as much as it pained him to say it, murmured, "You don’t have to do this."

He wasn’t sure what he had expected in answer, but it wasn’t the laugh Hannibal let out. "Believe me, this is no great hardship." Hannibal pressed his lips to Ben’s trousers, hot breath ghosting over his cock through the fabric. It was hardly any contact, a light touch through several layers of clothing, and still it left Ben gasping. Hannibal grabbed Ben’s hips to pull him closer, pressing just hard enough to tantalize without providing any relief.

"If you don’t get on with it," Ben said, not quite able to hide the shake in his voice, "I’ll have to take matters into my own hands."

"We wouldn’t want that," Hannibal said, grinning up at Ben. He undid Ben’s trousers with a practiced skill, licking up Ben’s cock from tip to root once he’d freed it. He sucked the tip into his mouth, and Ben barely managed to muffle a shout. It had been some time since anyone had touched him, and even if it hadn’t, Hannibal would have been well capable of drawing screams from him. He must have done this many times before, which stirred a feeling in Ben’s gut that he couldn’t quite explain.

Hannibal drew Ben in further, and Ben instinctively grabbed his head. He loosened his grip and began to apologize, but Hannibal’s moan stopped him. Ben gave a tentative tug at Hannibal’s queue, and Hannibal leaned into it, sucking hard at Ben’s cock.

Well, then. If this was what Hannibal wanted, Ben was happy to oblige. He hooked his fingers through the ribbon around Hannibal’s hair, untying it so he could muss Hannibal’s hair with his hands. Hannibal moaned again, the sound vibrating through Ben’s cock. Ben pulled harder, and Hannibal fumbled for his own cock, which Ben noted with awe was already rock-hard.

"You’re enjoying this," he murmured, smoothing down Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal approximated a grin the best he could with Ben’s cock in his mouth, and then slid his mouth forward on Ben’s cock until his lips were pressed to the skin of Ben’s groin.

Ben hadn’t been expecting that. He’d wanted to make this last, but Hannibal was so tight around him and he was _swallowing_ , the walls of his throat rippling around Ben’s cock, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from spending.

Hannibal kept up until the sensation was almost too much, at which point he leaned back on his heels and wiped his mouth, smiling up at Ben. Ben sank down to sit on the floor beside him, legs shaking.

He meant to say something meaningful, or at least coherent, but what came out instead was, "My _god_."

"Was that a satisfactory payment, then?" Hannibal was carefully keeping his hands away from where Ben had sprawled close to him. It was casual, and if Ben hadn’t been so intimately familiar with him, he might not have noticed.

"More than satisfactory. In fact, I feel I may owe _you_ now." Ben leaned closer, kissing Hannibal gently and reaching for his cock. "Although I’m not sure I can live up to the precedent you’ve set."

Hannibal was hard and dripping, and he moaned against Ben’s lips when Ben took him in hand. Just as he’d feared, Ben’s touch was fumbling – it had been some time since he’d done this to someone else, and he was too drunk and pleasure-dulled to dedicate himself fully to learning Hannibal’s body. But Hannibal was desperate, and Ben was enthusiastic, and one never really lost the knack. 

He kept his fist tight around Hannibal’s cock, letting Hannibal fuck up into it as his other hand roamed across Hannibal’s body. Hannibal liked having his nipples toyed with, Ben discovered, letting out the most delightful gasps as Ben rolled them between his fingers. Ben followed the line of Hannibal’s side down, tracing over each of his ribs and coming to rest with his thumb over the jut of his hipbone.

Ben leaned over to kiss the hollow of Hannibal’s neck, tasting salt on his tongue. Hannibal leaned his head back, his moan vibrating against Ben’s lips. Ben didn’t want this to end, but it would be too cruel, he thought, to leave Hannibal on the edge like this. There would be other nights. (He hoped with everything he had that there would be other nights.)

He finished Hannibal off with one last slide of his hand, Hannibal murmuring nonsense with his face pressed against Ben’s shoulder. Ben had never before seen Hannibal reduced to incoherence. He would rather like to see it again someday soon. He curled a lock of Hannibal’s hair around his finger, holding him close.

"This is by far the best bet I’ve ever lost," Hannibal said.

"Come to bed." Ben kissed the part of Hannibal’s hair. "I’m too old to spend the night on the floor."

"You’re far from old," said Hannibal, but he followed Ben to bed, sprawling over him in a manner that any other night would have had Ben complaining of the heat. But tonight he wanted to stay as close to Hannibal as he could manage. He could feel Hannibal's pulse, and his breathing tickling Ben's chest. His shoulder was sharp against Ben's side, but Ben didn't care. He pressed one last kiss to the top of Hannibal's head, and Hannibal murmured something unintelligible and burrowed deeper against Ben. Soon Ben was drifting off as well, fitted against Hannibal like they were made for each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to TheseusInTheMaze for betaing!


End file.
